


All In The Details

by keelywolfe



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before the fall of Erebor, Balin is working late into the night. Dwalin does not approve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All In The Details

**Author's Note:**

> Some days suck and you just need to write unredeeming porn. This is one of those days.

* * *

Kings, in Balin's experience, did not miss out on their sleep. 

The King in a grand kingdom found their own bed at whatever hour they wished and rose whenever they chose, and the rest of the kingdom would wait for them, for that was what they did. Thror was a great King and an excellent leader, and Balin would follow him down into the darkest pit with no hesitation, none. 

But he would also wager this night that Thror was already snoring in his bed whilst Balin worked feverishly on the shipping agreements that would be ready for debate and signatures in the morning. It was tedious work that required a meticulous eye for detail and though Balin's were growing red with weariness, he kept at it. He'd been done soon enough and then off to his own bed. 

The problem was, as always, in the details. Everything must be accounted for, every change in the past year of population, grain usage, the ratio of the harvest. All of it must be duly recorded in the contract so that no disputes could rise later. Balin had seen more than his fair share of ruffled feathers over an unclear paragraph, a notation that could be taken two ways, and on occasion, it had seemed those quarrels might end in blood. 

All in all, he'd prefer simply to double-check his work. 

Balin set his eyeglass aside, rubbing away tiredness. The piles of books on his table had grown in size, crumpled balls of paper scattered about, the corpses of contracts written and scribbled out, and written again. Only a little more, Balin promised himself, and he would be finished. He'd pass his work on to the scribes with a stern warning not to change a single word and come morning, they would have a contact worthy of being signed by a King. 

Rub as he might, the bleariness in his eyes refused to recede and Balin finally gave in to his yearning and went for a drink. A small ale would hardly blur his thinking and it might well give him the last push he needed to finish. The taste alone refreshed him, cool and easing on his parched tongue and Balin signed, settling the cup back on the tray before going back to his work, his papers, his books. 

Only to find an intruder had invaded while he'd been gone. 

Dwalin is sitting at the table, sprawled heavily in the chair, his dirty axes plunked atop it, smearing mud, blood, who knew what across Balin's meticulously written script. His head was pillowed on his arms, papers rucked up and wrinkled around him and he was already snoring, the entire table trembling at the force. 

Balin sighed and gave him a hard whack on the head, interrupting him mid-snore. His brother snorted loudly, offering him a bleary glare from one eye. 

"I take it we're finished training for the day?" Balin asked idly, smoothing Dwalin's hair. Uselessly, it rose up again belligerently beneath his hand, rejecting any attempt to be tamed. Yes, it did seem that only Kings were getting their sleep this night.

"It wasn't training today," Dwalin told him sullenly, his voice muffled into his arms.

"No?" Balin considered that as he carefully worked one of his rumpled pages out from beneath his brother's elbow. "Ah, it was tourneys today, wasn't it?"

A surly snort was all that earned him and Balin sighed inwardly, surrendering on the idea of rescuing his papers until his brother's wounded soul had been soothed.

"And you were hoping I would be there, is that it? I am sorry for that, but you do know I have tasks of my own, do you not? Tasks that are asked of me by our King, yes?"

"Aye." From that tone, he'd not earned a biscuit's worth of forgiveness.

Balin kept his sighs to himself but his hands, not so, gently petting his brother's hair, ignoring that it was still sweaty and mussed which meant Dwalin had not bothered with the baths before tromping up here to smellily protest his outrage. He tried not to think of just how much of the aroma his books were absorbing and only stroked gently, lingering at the tender spot behind his ear.

"You are horribly spoiled, do you know that?" Balin scolded lightly, chuckling softly as Dwalin leaned into his petting hands like a mangy hound. "Terribly, horribly spoiled, to expect me to drop all my work just to see you bloody your agemates."

"You always come," Dwalin dropped his head back to the papers, the table thunking loudly beneath his forehead. Instead of sullen, now he was accusing, all his hurts poured out and cast at Balin's feet. "Always.

"Aye, I do," Balin smiled, leaning in to nuzzle a kiss against Dwalin neck, breathing in the heated scent of his sweat. "Spoiled, as I said,"

"You like to watch," Ah, and there was a hint of smugness twined with a breathy note as Dwalin tipped his head, both an offering and a way to give Balin a surly look from one eye.

"I do," Balin said agreeably. And he did, puffed up with pride at his brother's skill. There was also the way Dwalin strode arrogantly around the ring with his axes in hand, bare-chested, gleaming with sweat and blood. A sight Balin appreciated a great deal more than documents or contracts, even ones requested by his King. Still… "So perhaps we are both spoiled. But I have a speech to give tomorrow in front of an assembly from four kingdoms, and you, my heart, are ruining my notes."

Dwalin's scowl told him just how much he cared about that so Balin added, lightly, "Unless you would care to explain to Thror why I am unable to complete my work?"

That at least lifted his brother's head and arms both, sparing his scrolls from any further indignities. That it caused Dwalin to turn in his chair, take hold of Balin's belt and tug him roughly into Dwalin's lap was not quite as helpful.

"Easy," Balin complained, fidgeting unhappily. He might be shorter than his brother but that didn't mean he liked being treated as a youth. Dwalin simply ignored his protests, large hands already dragging his robes up to his hips, yanking him in to press them together tightly. Already he could feel Dwalin was heavy and hard beneath his trousers, his blood riled by mock battle, and Balin cast his papers a halfhearted glance. Well, perhaps a quick distraction was in order. 

"Spoiled," Balin chided with his own breathlessness, batting Dwalin's clumsy fingers out of the way and working open their trousers on his own. Dwalin's low grunt as he took him in hand made him smile, though the way his hands caught hold of Balin's backside, kneading roughly, drew out a startled groan of his own. Dwalin was trying to haul him in closer still, hips rising despite Balin's not-insignificant weight atop him and with a long suffering sigh, Balin managed to draw his increasingly squashed hand free, allowing Dwalin the lead. 

For his part, Dwalin seemed content to rub his cock against Balin's belly, occasionally striking a glancing blow against Balin's own swelling eagerness but mostly intent on his own gratification. Balin allowed it for a moment, more amused than irritated, then cuffed Dwalin roughly on the ear, hard enough that he yelped. 

"Pardon me," Balin said politely, "But if you've a plan to ruin my clothes today, I'd like a chance to join you at it."

Dwalin gave him a wounded glare, squeezing Balin's backside hard enough to leave a bruise or two and wouldn't that make sitting for hours an interesting challenge tomorrow. He lifted Balin as easily as he might a pillow, settling him better, though he muttered grudgingly, "Not like you deserve it."

That earned him a harder blow on the ear and a sharp, "That's a quick way to earn a night on your own, lad, and you can dirty your clothes alone."

Though truth be told, from Dwalin's fierce grip it would take more than a pinch to get free. Instead of the surly apology he'd expected, Balin was surprised when Dwalin only caught his wrists, keeping him from another blow even as he rocked his hips up again and this time their cocks slide together deliciously, lovely friction building. 

"You should have been there," Dwalin insisted, though he caught on a stuttering groan, trapping Balin's wrists in one hand so that he might palm his brother's hip with the other, holding him tightly. "I bested Narvi today and you were not there to see it."

Narvi, the weapon's master. Of course, today would be the day Dwalin finally outdid him, as he had been close to any number of times before. His hands were not his own at the moment, so Balin could not offer sweet caresses in apology. Instead, he leaned in and bit Dwalin's nose lightly before knocking their foreheads together in a gentle tap. "Aye, you're right," he soothed, pushing his hips into Dwalin's and shuddering at the rub of it. "I should have been there."

Dwalin's groan and the press of his forehead against Balin's felt like forgiveness, though his grip tightened painfully and tomorrow Balin guessed his wrists would be ringed with bruises to match his backside. It would be a fine day to wear gloves. That was a distraction that would have to be borne later for now all his focus was on the hot splash of seed on his belly and cock as Dwalin moaned beneath him, coming in slippery-hot pulses. 

The sudden slickness between them made for an easier ride and Balin drove for it eagerly even as Dwalin slumped in a panting, shivering mess. The hand at Balin's hip grew restless, petting up beneath his robes in search of bare skin and he caught a firm hold of Balin's backside just as his own pleasure rose up, his groan hissing out between his teeth as he spilled, the hot patter of his seed mingling where Dwalin's was already cooling. 

By the time Balin caught his breath, Dwalin's grip had loosened and he was able to pull his aching hands free of their sloppy restraint. Instead of rising, he nuzzled lightly at Dwalin's beard, pulling at it with his lips until Dwalin came to his senses enough to scowl up at him. 

"I am sorry I missed seeing you best Narvi," Balin told him contritely, "Though to be fair, I could hardly have known to expect you would. I hope you see the ruining of a perfectly good set of robes to be a fair payment for your loss."

The hand on his backside flexed hard enough to make Balin's eyes narrow in a wince, watching as Dwalin seemed grumpily consider his forgiveness, "You can have these robes washed easily enough."

"Oh, brother, my heart," Balin chuckled, and he took another quick nip at Dwalin's nose before he could be stopped. "I never did say we were finished ruining them."

There were better ways than paperwork, after all, to miss out on his sleep.

-finis-


End file.
